Wearily, she breathed in the smell of her mother’s antique bookstore. Linen covers made everything look like tall ghosts. Closing the door behind her (the bell jangled noisily), Fortescue cleared her throat loudly.
A cat crawled out from behind a bookcase—if it could be called a cat anymore, it was ratty, nearly blind and as thin as a wisp of smoke. She smiled.
“There you are.”
It crawled up her leg and rested around her neck, but she could barely feel it. As she did, she felt something shimmer through the air. She cleared her throat again, eyes narrowing as she looked to the corners of the room.
“Come out,” she muttered, “I know you’re there.”
A man that she barely recognized—a recruit to the Council, the last time she’d been to the Chambers—shrugged off his cloak of shadows and moved forward, a smirk on his face.
“You’re very brave. Leaving your Alram here, unguarded.”
“No one comes here except on Council business, anymore,” Fortescue said, flexing her hands. “And I apologize, but I don’t remember your name.”
“I never gave it.”
She rolled her eyes. Her rank was well above his, and yet he was the one having the power trip.
“Then speak your business, jerkoff.”
He bristled, but he didn’t respond to her insult. “The Council has requested your presence in the Chambers tonight. They have requested you leave your… Alram… behind.” He looked at the creature around her shoulders. “I imagine you understand why.”
Fortescue smirked at his discomfort. “Yes, I know. Tell them I’ll be there.”
(Source: velvetdemon.net)
